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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553543">The Request</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/motier_boleyn/pseuds/motier_boleyn'>motier_boleyn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Historical RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, Self Confidence Issues, poor gilbert :(</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:28:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/motier_boleyn/pseuds/motier_boleyn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gilbert du Motier, Marquis of Lafayette wishes to resign.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette &amp; George Washington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Request</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is a little knock on the door and it makes Washington unfocus from his work. He is writing letters to his wife and their children, who he misses very much. But now he is the commander of the army now and had to do everything to keep everything from the British’s hands. </p><p>There is a little knock again, now a bit louder. “Monsieur, may I speak to you?” </p><p>The sound is muffled, however, George can tell who it is. The french accent and the polite voice of Gilbert, also known as the Marquis de Lafayette. The timid knocks on the door are so silly to Washington, most of the generals will open the door without even telling them they were outside the door. Washington cannot help but find himself to do a little chuckle, “Come in, marquis.” </p><p>Washington suspects that he is going to the young marquis to take out a small deck of cards from his pocket so they can play Old Maid. He imagines Gilbert’s face, how he smiles with delight and his cheeks get rosy red from laughing over a victory that he gets from him, who let the boy win without him knowing. </p><p>That imagines all changes however when the door opens. Gilbert has a cold expression plastered on his face. He bows down and there are not one bit of those rosy, charming cheeks of innocence and joy boys his age have. He almost trips when bowing and he grips the doorframe to keep him from falling. It’s his leg, it is still injured from Brandywine. Gilbert gulps, “Mon général, I want to speak to you about something that has been troubling me for some time now.” </p><p>Washington dips his head to beckon Gilbert to sit down on the other seat on the other side of the table. Gilbert heaves to the table, he should have a cane since his injury if affecting him this much. He sits down and there’s not that little silly groan he has each time when he sits down when he is ready to play cards. No sound goes to his mouth as if it is sewn shut. </p><p>He is wearing his general outfit, epaulets, wig and all. Yet one thing is missing, and Washington can tell what it is. His purple sash Gilbert wears every time when he has his general outfit is gone. It is quite strange to see the Frenchman without the sash that shows he was given the rank of major general from Congress. Normally he almost flails it around, showing his excitement that he has got the position and how he is helping the new nation. “Mon gén-” </p><p>“Where is your sash?” Washington interrupts him, his voice quite concerning. He’s not mad, he is just very confused.</p><p>“Sir, that’s… uh… that’s what I wanted to talk about,” Gilbert mumbles. He is acting like how he acted when he first met Washington that plenty of weeks ago. It has now been a month and a half since that happened and yet the two have gotten so close, almost as a father and son. But now, Gilbert is acting strangely, as if all that closeness was lost before this meeting. Or is he scared? The boy is always quiet when something is stabbing his happy mood, such as when everyone thought Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton had passed away a week ago, Gilbert shut himself from the world and remained silent until Hamilton came back soaking from the river. Gilbert touches his chest where the sash would be, his head lowering. </p><p>“Did you lose it?” That possibly is the problem. “I can just get you a new-” </p><p>“No…,” Gilbert’s voice gets a bit loud, however, he again shrinks down to his timid self. Loud voices yell and talk outside the room and it distracts the two of them, Gilbert forgot to shut the door. It is the other generals and they are loud enough for Washington to know what they are talking about winning battles and getting their rightful respect from their colleagues. Gilbert starts to shake for an odd reason, but Washington does not know what. “Mon… mon général, could you shut the door. With my leg it’s a bit troubling.” </p><p>“I understand,” Washington sighs. It’s so odd to see Gilbert like this, he does not know how to react. He gets up from his chair and puts his quill in the ink jar and walks up. Before he shuts it, the commander in chief listens to the other generals. </p><p>“Aren’t we all great generals?” Arnold boasts, George can tell he is drunk. </p><p>“Yes, my friend,” Greene laughs, he too is drunk. “All of us! All the generals that came here, though.” </p><p>Washington shuts the door before he can hear the rest of the conversation. He looks at Gilbert, hoping that he did not hear what just had been said. He studies the boy for a bit. For a tall and lanky boy, Gilbert looks so small when he is hunched over and when something is worrying him. Before Washington can sit down, he asks, “marquis, is it your leg?”</p><p>“No, no, no, no,” Gilbert’s voice is now rushed. It keeps changing pitches and it is starting to look strange as if his heart is beating in his throat. His breath is getting quick and grows louder as if he is ready to jump and scream. As if he is going to be insane. He opens his mouth yet nothing comes out, and he still looks at the ground. He has never made eye contact with Washington, who is bothered by it. </p><p>“Look at me,” he commands and sits down in his chair and heaves. Gilbert flinches for an odd reason as if he is frightened by his worst nightmare. Finally he slowly brings his head up. His chest is going up and down vigorously and Washington is sure that the boy is going through a panic. Finally, the parental concern gets to his head. “Gilbert, is everything alright? You are acting so-”</p><p>“I wish to resign.” </p><p>The words go so fast, Washington can barely make it out, But he does. He doesn’t know where to find words. He wishes it can be a joke, but he knows it isn’t from the petrified body language of Gilbert, the missing sash, how shaky he got when he heard the other generals speak. Washington runs his fingers through his graying chestnut hair and he can imagine Gilbert’s happy-go-lucky expression, however it changes from the sight of the boy who is in the middle of an act of panic. Washington cannot believe what he has just said. He shakes his head, “Lafayette…”</p><p>“Mon général, s’il vous plaît," Gilbert's voice is shaky, the pitches changes every syllable. He speaks French when he is nervous as if he cannot control it. “Je sais que tu penses-” </p><p>“Are you that asinine?” Washington’s voice booms, he is generally confused about why the boy would think this? He is a general, he was given the position for a reason. “There must be a good reason why.”  </p><p>“Je… I…,” Gibert can barely speak, his voice quiet as if he is scared, to tell the truth. He lowers his head in shame again and Washington can see his hands go to his skinny legs and his nails dig into them. “Monsieur, I… I do not think I am fit…”</p><p>Washington is out of words for the second time. The room goes silent and no one can hear the other generals outside of the room speak. Everything is quiet, except Gilbert's raggedy breath that sounded like he is choking on his own air. From this breath, Washington can tell the Frenchman gave this a lot of thought, perhaps weeks worth of thinking to prepare for this meeting. Yet he is failing and is crumbling from the pressure. What does a general do when his best soldiers ask to resign? Continue on the war without him or beg for him to stay? And the only reason is that he is not fit? Fit for what? Finally, Washington speaks, “Are you sure you want to resign? From the way you are acting, I feel like you do not want to. Be honest with me, marquis.”</p><p>Gilbert only manages to look at him for a second and in that little amount of time, tears start to force themselves out of the poor boy's eyes. He tries to hold it in and doesn’t wipe it away, as if he does not want Washington to see how awful he is. “Please, monsieur, s’il vous plaît… I need to be…”</p><p>Washington can feel his heartbreak as the room goes silent again, however this time the only thing that is disrupting the silence is now sobbing. This is the first time Gilbert has ever cried in front of him, and it is painful to watch. He shakes when he cries and tries to not let other people see that he is crying, yet he ultimately fails. He embraced himself as if he needs comfort he has not ever. This boy is built with so many tears and his freckled face is drenched with tears. The worst thing about it is Gilbert is a loud crier, his sobs so heart-wrenching to the human heart. How can this happy go lucky boy harbor this internal pain about himself? Every sob in a bullet in the stomach for Washington. “Shh, it’s alright Gilbert, I’m-”</p><p>“This is what I mean,” Gilbert gulps for air. His hands go for his hair, only to be interrupted by his wig. His eyes become layered with tears about to fall off again and he clutches the wig and rips it from his head, ruining it. He looks down on it and bites his lip and places it on the table. Snot is dripping down from his nostrils. He continues, “a general does not cry in front of the commander in chief. I am a fool, mon général. I’m too emotional.” </p><p>“Gilbert…”</p><p>Washington uses Gilbert’s name when they are alone. He should call him by his title, the marquis, yet it doesn’t feel right. Why would one call their noble family member by their title? Gilbert and Washington are not connected by blood, but by the struggles of the revolt against the British tyranny. Washington views him as a son. His own son. He gets out of the chair and he moves to the crying boy carefully. Gilbert’s eyes widen and he flinches. Washington coos, “Hey, hey it’s alright.” </p><p>Washington gets on his knees so he can somewhat level to Gilbert. He reached for an embrace to try and guide him to the security and comfort he needs to have. Gilbert embraces back and his grip is tight, Washington can barely breathe. Yet, he does not care, Gilbert needs this. But the Frenchman does not know if he should continue with his sobs or just keep them in. But when Washington’s mumbles, “you can let it out,” he finally starts to sob and rest his head on the other’s shoulder. </p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Gilbert sniffles, his words are slurred from weeping. “I’m so goddamn weak…”</p><p>“Gilbert,” Washington hates how the boy describes himself. “It’s normal to get emotional. You are only a boy.” </p><p>“I still am not great for this position, mon général,” Gilbert chokes down a sob and his whole body shakes. He gets out of Washington’s grip and looks down on his body as if he is judging it. “Don’t you see? I am not fit for a general in my body as well. I’m skinny. I have no muscle, I am not like the others. I’ll never be as good as Arnold, Lee, Greene, everyone in this army.”</p><p>The first thing that goes through Washington’s head is Gilbert’s determination out at Brandywine, how he wanted to help so many people in danger. All the other generals knew that they had to stay back, yet if they had to fight or not, they would stay back. Gilbert somewhat had the same rule to follow, yet he did not care. He wanted to be the best soldier to all without thinking of it. He truly wanted to aid everyone and create less death as possible. Sadly he cost himself that, his poor leg that still hurts after these weeks. </p><p>Washington puts a hand on Gilbert’s shoulder. “Do you know why Congress appointed you to your rank as major general? It is because you have so much hope and determination to see this country free from Britain's grasp. None of these men have gifted with that much of that as you have. Do you know that? Because of this, you are the best general, even better than me. Strength does not matter truly in battle, hope and selflessness do. You did that in Brandywine, so I know. Do you understand?”</p><p>Gilbert does a little wail, yet there's a touch of gratefulness to it. He gets out of the chair and goes on his knees to hug Washington again, who rubs his back. His sobs are now gone and it’s only little sniffles. “I don’t want to resign no more. Let me still be a general, s’il vous plaît." </p><p>“You can stay as Major General, son,” Washington smiles. “I do not know what you think, but I can assure you, I love having you in this army.” </p><p>Gilbert lifts his head from Washington’s shoulder, his somber expression is still there but it is fading away. It is starting to become that happy go lucky smile and rosy cheeks, his short ginger hair is messy that shows the boyish nature of him. He sniffles and wipes his tears away and snot, his worries too. </p><p>“Do you wish to play Old Maid?”</p><p>Gilbert giggles and nods, “oui.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading ! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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